This is the End
by Elillierose
Summary: A stakeout in the dead of night goes drastically wrong for a certain underground hero. Lucky for him, there will always be someone there to watch his back. 2nd fic in my 10 fic giveaway.


**Beta read by: SinikkavonWolperting**

 **Second of the ten fics for my 500 follower giveaway on Tumblr. I do these every 100 followers and am currently hosting the next if any are interested. Tumblr name is same as my name on here. C:**

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He made sure to stay close, as close as he dared, anyway. There was not a chance he was going to allow either of them to escape from his sight. Aizawa's eyes narrowed as the pair rounded another corner...just how deep into the back streets were they planning on going anyway? They were already a good distance from the density of the city. Not to mention far from the prying gazes of the public. Whatever it was they were up to, it must have been risky to warrant this much of a precaution.

After what had to have been another half an hour or so, they finally slowed their pace enough for the hero to catch his breath at last. The man stayed low. Sure, he was out of sight, as well as in a position difficult enough to reach, but it was better safe than sorry. He leaned forward when voices began to sound out. They were quiet and a bit muffled thanks to their masks. He couldn't make out a single damn word uttered. Swearing silently to himself, Shota pulled himself just a little bit closer to the edge, hoping desperately to catch at least something. He needed something so all this stalking wasn't for nothing.

One slight movement and another colorful word slipped out as something was knocked loose, only to tumble and fall to the street below. Even at this distance, he could hear the object clatter to the asphalt. Not a moment later, the talking ceased and was replaced by swift whispers. The man froze in place. It was all over now, he screwed up, he gave away his position. Fingers gripped the edge of the roof as he stilled himself as much as his body was able.

"Come on…" he mouthed, breath held. "It was nothing...move on already." His teeth clenched in anticipation and a nervous drop of sweat trailed down the side of his neck.

Soon enough, to his relief, the talking picked up again, and at last, their retreating steps reached him. He didn't follow right away, he gave it time, gave them a few moments to get some distance between them before he would continue to pursue. The moment he could barely pick up on their movements was when he slowly stood back up.

Alright, it was time to continue forth. He took a deep breath as he got ready to lunge onto the next roof. It was something he had pulled off countless of times, but out here alone, he wasn't sure what it was, but he was more on edge than he normally was. Maybe it was the fact he was alone out here this time, or maybe it was the slight breeze that caused the hairs on his neck to stand on end. Whatever it was, he was a tad unsettled to put it lightly.

It was second nature at this point, an action he no longer had to put any thought into. Sighing heavily to himself, the hero stretched out his legs as he prepared himself for the jump. He needed to get a move on before they had a chance to get too far away. With that in mind, the man charged forward, but the moment his right foot left solid ground, his heart stopped and his eyes widened with the deafening shot that rang out.

Pain.

Burning agony exploded through his left thigh. It was enough to completely throw him off and prevent him from catching himself on the other side. He heard, more than felt, his body collide with the opposite brick surface before he was falling again. His pulse was racing, mind running in circles without the slightest idea what to do. At this rate, he would hit the ground, and from this height…

'Shit!' he screamed in his mind as he desperately tried to right himself, but the disorientation from the pain and sudden change in position was making it impossible. He managed to crack a single eye open, and regret instantly clutched the pit of his stomach...there was no time.

The impact ripped the air straight from his lungs and stars danced across his vision, the edges of which blurred and warped dangerously. It took all of his might and willpower not to pass out on the spot. Despite all the pain, buried underneath all the discomfort, his mind was yelling at him to get up and get out of there. It was screaming at him without pause, yet his body refused to obey the warnings. A low cough eventually worked its way out of his throat, followed immediately by a groan.

Slowly, and tediously, the hero turned over to one side; every fiber of his being protested against it, but he didn't care. He ignored all the cries and pleas. He had been shot...it just now had time to register, but he was shot and whoever pulled that trigger had to have still be nearby. He had to get out of here before he was found.

However, the moment he made the slightest of movements, agony flared through his leg and his hand shot to grip the area. Instantly, warm liquid seeped between his fingers and a hiss brushed over his lips. Fingers digging into soaked fabric, he used his free hand to support himself against the wall and hauled himself part of the way up. His left foot barely touched the floor and already his leg was trying its damnedest to buckle. Biting down hard, and tightening his jaw, he forced himself to limp forward a few feet. With every step his energy was waning and heart rate increasing.

He felt sick...from agony or blood loss, he wasn't sure. He staggered forward, and if it weren't for the wall he clung onto for dear life, he was positive he would have been right back on the ground. If that happened, he was sure there would be no getting back up again. Shota allowed himself only a couple seconds to regain what little ballance he could.

Damn did it hurt, but he couldn't stay there for long. After a few more seconds, he perked up, sure he heard something in the distance. Someone was coming, he knew it. Shoving it all down and straightening up, he gripped at the wound tighter in hopes of alleviating the torment just enough to get some distance between himself and his assailant. But, with the next step, he had a nagging feeling there wasn't much of a chance of that.

Again, his leg tried to give out the moment it made the slightest of contacts. He stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet until he fell onto his hands and knees. The force sent a new wave of torture through his limb.

"Dammit," he ground out, attempting to push himself back up, but he was getting nowhere fast. Not to mention, those steps were growing louder, slowly gaining on him. Heart beating faster than he knew capable, the worst of his pain began to ebb away, granting him with enough energy to push himself back up. As if on their own, his legs started carrying him forward. Each step brought a new and burning knife plunging into his thigh. However, he was able to ignore it and press on.

Pants tore from his dry and aching throat, every exhale raked against the inside of it like sandpaper. Even going as quickly as he could, they were getting closer. He could have sworn they were right behind him now; he could practically feel their breath down the back of his neck.

Hizashi was right, coming out here alone was such a stupid idea. But, he had been doing this for years now, it shouldn't have gone so wrong. And yet, for some reason, the possibility of fucking guns being involved never crossed his mind. It was starting to become a rare thing for such weapons to be involved. With all the quirks people had, weapons were obsolete in the villain and crime world.

He rounded another corner and pressed his back against the wall as his burst of adrenaline started to fade away. All the pain and exhaustion was catching up once again and he struggled to draw in a single steady breath. His head was spinning and throbbing fiercely now. He needed to rest. Hell, he needed medical attention. With a quick glance down, despite the low lighting, it was clear the amount of crimson that now stained his pants leg.

As he stared down at it, his eyes widened in fear and realizing as he glanced behind him. Another string of swears filtered out at the trail of blood he was leaving behind. It didn't matter anymore, they would be lead right to him with the footprints he was leaving. They would find him any minute now...unless. His free hand raised to stroke over his capturing weapon and his attention lifted to search the area above him.

There had to be something he could latch on to. Anything to get him off the ground and out of harm's way. However, with the way his vision was fading in and out of focus, it was getting harder and harder to make anything out as colors mixed and swirled into one. He swallowed thickly, trying to fight the urge to vomit. His left hand was still clutching the gunshot wound, fingers trembled as warm fluid still trickled down.

Releasing a shuddering breath, he knew what he had to do. He had to go on at least a little bit more, had to continue until he could find some sort of purchase to get a hold of. He cast a quick look over his shoulder, and was relieved the coast was still clear for the time being. There was no telling how long that would last though.

'You've been in worse situations,' he told himself, knowing damn well that was a lie. Still, maybe convincing himself that would make a difference. He could only hope, anyway. Biting the inside of his cheek, and preparing himself mentally, he took another step. This, out of all of them, was by far the worst. He shouldn't have stood still so long. This time, there was no saving himself, the protesting from the scorching muscle was too much to ignore.

Next thing he knew, through the flashes of colors, the ground was coming right at hin. Again, he found himself lying on the cold and hard ground. Of all places to get shot, it had to be in the most obnoxious spot. Anywhere else, he could have fought through it no problem. Without being able to walk though...there was nothing.

His breath hitched as a step, closer than all the others, sounded out just a few feet away.

"Well well well, what have we here?" came a somewhat familiar voice. He knew instantly it belonged to one of the two he was following. A low chuckle followed suit and the man stepped over to stand right next to the hero's face. Through the thickening fog, Aizawa cut his eyes over to glare up at the culprit. "I must say, you got a lot farther than I had expected. That's quite impressive."

Without a word, the dark-haired man scanned over until he caught sight of the gun in his hand. It was held tightly, his finger already over the trigger, ready to squeeze in a moment's notice. He still said nothing as the man stepped over and out of his sight. Without view of him, panic started to rise and his chest rose and fell quickly with his festering terror of what the guy was planning. He couldn't bring himself to turn over, could barely managed to keep his eyes open at this point.

Every breath was like a stake through his chest, his lungs were working overtime to make up for the racing of his pulse. Every inhale caused a shudder to run through his spine. All the while, with the cement against his chest, his ribs weren't allowed the space to expand with near hyperventilations.

The only sounds he could make out anymore was a loud and pitched ringing in his ears, his own heart, and the steps of the other man. Soon, those stopped as well and the clicking and clattering of the gun being raised was able to cut through all other sounds as well. Even his heart ceased it's incessant pounding. This was it, he was done for. This wasn't how he imagined it happening. In a dark and damp ally far from the main city...and at the hands of a common thug of all people too. It was almost laughable with how humiliating it was. All these people with amazing and terrifying abilities, and it was a kid with a trigger-happy finger that would do him in.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the next sound he heard would be the last. A shot, loud and Earth-shattering ripped everything away. Stole away all noises, snatched all thought and hope away, what little there was left. Then was the sensation, one not unfamiliar from the one earlier, exploded from his right shoulder. There was no preventing the agonized cry that escaped him.

"What were you doing following us?" the young man demanded, crouching down as his finger twirled through and gripped the dark locks. None too gently, he yanked the hero's head back, forcing him to face his way.

Still, there was no answer, he slammed his mouth back shut and held it there, afraid that nothing coherent would come out should he reopen it.

"Answer me!" he demanded, more or loss tossing his head back down. The collision brought forth a new flourish of stars to the hero's vision. Vision which was now bordered in shadow and promising to disappear altogether in a matter of seconds. Quickly, everything was growing fuzzy; even the pain was disappearing. For that, he wasn't sure if he was thankful or not. On one hand, there wasn't much suffering, but on the other...well, it was obvious why that couldn't have been a good thing.

His ability to care was swiftly starting to deplete as well. Maybe death wouldn't be so bad after all. He had come to terms with the possibility the moment he signed up to be a hero. It was just something that all knew would come one day. Of course, none of them looked forward to it, but it was a thing they had to accept.

Shota could barely make out of the gun being raised and aimed again. This time, he was sure it was going to be the shot that ended his life. There was no reason to keep him alive, no reason to draw this out. He waited, anticipating the moment it would come. But...it was taking too long. If he was going to kill him, he wished he would hurry the hell up and go through with it already. If the shot came or not, he didn't know, maybe it did, but if it did, he never heard nor felt it. All he knew was that blackness swarmed, drowning out everything.

* * *

"-ta...Sho-a…" It was annoying, fuzzy and headache inducing. "Hey...co-e on. I know you're in the-e…"

An involuntary groan scraped out of his throat and his left hand twitched in an attempt to wave the irritating company away. But, then it dawned on him...where was he? Last thing he knew-

His eyes snapped open and he nearly choked on his next breath in. The hero would have shot upright if it weren't for the strong hand on his chest holding him in place.

"W-Whoa...calm down. Shota, it's alright, you're fine." Another hand reached to run through his bangs, easily brushing them out of his face. Aizawa took a few deep breaths, or tried to; that was still fairly difficult, especially with the grogginess and uncertainties that came with just waking up.

"I-" he croaked, the dryness of his tongue causing him to trip over his own words. "I'm still alive?" he rasped. He blinked heavily a few times and looked down, as if needing to check for himself that it was true. And, there it was, his body, hidden beneath a light white sheet. There was still a bit of dull pain in both places shot, meaning he couldn't have been dead.

He then slowly averted his attention to the blond sitting next to him, whose hand was still on his chest. Hizashi stared at him in mild concern. "Well...yeah, of course you are. I mean, don't get me wrong, thought you were dead when we found you." He glanced down at the other's form before snapping his eyes back up to see the confusion in those dark eyes. "Right, uh, you see, I know you said you wanted to go out alone, it being your area of expertise, or whatever it is you call it. But, I don't know, I didn't like the idea of you going out there alone, not in that part of town."

"So, you followed me?" Shota asked, single brow raised.

The scoff that answered was dry and slightly offended. "Uhhh, no, not exactly. I just decided to head out and check in on things. And, it's a damn good thing I did. Any later and neither of us would be sitting here right now. You'd be in a morgue and I'd be in prison."

The other couldn't help but smirk at that. Why wasn't he surprised. Though, as much as he hated to admit it, he was right. He'd definitely be dead right now if it weren't for him. It was difficult to be upset when he was right. Slowly and carefully, he leaned back, feeling the momentary energy he had quickly drain.

"You should get some rest," the blond breathed out, pushing himself up. "You lost a lot of blood...almost too much. The fact that you lived even after all that is impressive by itself. You really are the most stubborn man I know." He chuckled, but it was void of humor. It was now that Aizawa really saw the bags under his eyes and the exhaustion lining his features. "I'll be back, the others are waiting outside."

Shota just nodded, already struggling to stay awake. He took a deep breath as the other man strolled towards and out the door. "Thanks," he muttered, knowing it was never heard. It was alright, there would be plenty of time for thanking.


End file.
